


Sam's a pretty smart kid

by CharethCutestory



Category: Supernatural
Genre: High School, Light Angst, One Shot, Pre-Series, Singer Salvage Yard, Teen Sam Winchester, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 20:38:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3543023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharethCutestory/pseuds/CharethCutestory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, a high-school dropout, can barely believe that Sammy's made it to Senior Year. And he's taking AP classes too. Despite all the moving around, Sam's a pretty smart kid. Sooner or later, he'll have to make a choice: to stay in the family business, or to pave his own way. And Dean can't handle the the latter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sam's a pretty smart kid

Dean sat in the dusty old study at the Singer Salvage Yard, his worn worker boots resting casually on the wooden desk. One hand fondled the neck of a beer; the other held something unexpected – it was a book. Specifically, Slaughterhouse 5, its withered blue cover the brightest thing in the room. Behind it hid his bottle-green eyes, scanning the pages with intensity; his brows were furrowed in concentration.  
“What’re you up to, boy?” A gruff voice said, breaking him out of his trance. He turned his head to see his surrogate father leaning against the doorframe, his dirty trucker hat on his head as always.  
“Just a bit of reading,” The young man replied, showing Bobby the cover. The older man nodded, surprised.  
“I didn’t know you could read.” He joked. Dean rolled his eyes and took a swig of his drink.  
“It’s on Sammy’s reading list for AP English. It’s some pretty intense stuff.” Bobby knocked Dean’s legs off the table and put the book back on the shelf.  
“Well, Sam's a pretty smart kid. That’s what you get if you stay in school ‘til senior year.”  
There was a silence, then Bobby said what Dean was thinking: “Before you know it he’ll be off to college.”  
“Not if dad has anything to say about it.” Bobby gave a look that said he knew it was true. Then clearing his throat, he said, “You’re dad’ll be here to pick you up in half an hour. He says he’s got a tulpa case in Jericho. I’ve sent Sam up to start packing.”  
With that, Dean left the room. Bobby heard his quiet footsteps on the stairs and smiled to himself. He was light on his feet for such a tall boy, but that was a good trait for a hunter to have.  
When Dean reached the bedroom, he found his little brother stuffing their clothes into an olive-coloured duffel bag. Dean was struck by the thought that he wasn’t so little at all. He remembered the bitterness he felt when Sam shot up at age sixteen. Two years later he practically towered over him. Despite his tall build, Dean still saw a child when he looked at Sam. Unlike Dean, he still had a little bit of innocence in his warm grey eyes, which peered from behind floppy brown waves. He joined Sam by the bed and they shared an amicable silence as they packed. As Dean zipped up the bag, a familiar car horn sounded outside.  
“That’s our ride,” Dean said. “Good timing,” Sam replied, heading towards the door. As he reached for the handle, Dean put a hand on his shoulder. Sam stopped and turned to face him. “What is it?” He asked, curious. “Do you want to go to college?” The taller boy’s eyes turned away, a look of guilt on his face. “Sammy, look at me. Do you?” The boy looked up again.  
“Of course I do, Dean. This life… it isn’t me. It never has been. I want something more.” Dean’s eyes were questioning. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re a high school drop-out.”  
“Don’t go all holier-than-thou on me.” The green eyes narrowed with indignation.  
Sam gave an exasperated sigh. “That isn’t what I meant. What I meant was, you actually want this gig."  
"What makes you think you know what I want?"  
"Come on. You can’t tell me hunting doesn’t give you a rush.” Dean pursed his lips; his brother was right. “I can’t see myself making FBI badges at Kinko’s and beheading vamps for the rest of my life. I just can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t be dad’s little soldier forever.” Sam continued, his pleading eyes looking straight into his brother’s. Dean rubbed the back of his neck, looking defeated. “Let’s go boys!” John’s voice rang from downstairs. Both of them said nothing as they left the room and went downstairs. Saying their goodbyes to Bobby, they piled into the Impala. John, oblivious to the tension, said in an authoritative tone, “Boys, we’ve got work to do.”


End file.
